Mistress of Mischief
by MusicalManiac23
Summary: Before the robbery at Gotham National Bank, The Joker's name still remains unknown to the public. That is, until he catches the attention of a hacker known only as Quinn... My take on a Nolanized Harley Quinn.


**AN: **Good evening ladies and gentl...never mind.

Okay, since July 18, 2008 (when TDK was released), I've been trying to create a Harley Quinn that I felt could fit into Nolan's Batman Universe. Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE the original HQ, but a psychiatrist who falls in love with her patient can only be written so many times before I get tired of reading it. And since Nolan completely wiped Joker's slate clean, why can't Harley be treated in the same manner?

This story will attempt to follow TDK, but I might change it up a bit. Not sure yet.

Keep in mind, this is merely the ravings of a crazy Joker fan girl. Any and all trolling will be reported.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Batman, The Joker, Harley Quinn, etc. They all belong to their respective owners. Though I wish I could own Christopher Nolan. ^_^

And here...we...

GO!

**Chapter One: All It Takes is One Bad Day**

The sun was particularly bright this morning. She looked up at it, squinting, and sighed. She hated these kinds of days. It meant it would be a cloudless, windless day in Gotham, and her favorite sweater she was wearing was going to smell like serious B.O. by the time she trudged back home. And, her nose would turn pink. '_Why do I never have sunscreen?'_ She internally grumbled.

The bank was just across the street, but she wouldn't dare cross the crosswalk til the light changed. Morning-traffic rage was really bad today, as evident by the four cars that almost ran over her on her way here. So she stood awkwardly on the street corner, glaring at the sun.

The light went red and the walk sign turned on. She was halfway across when a small truck with its right turn signal on came to a screeching halt about an inch away and honked at her. Without even glancing at the driver, she pointed at the rather large **NO TURN ON RED** sign on the light post, then flipped him the bird as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She smirked to herself, because that was a long light and that asshole would be waiting there a _long_ time.

She jogged the steps to the bank and dragged open the heavy doors. Whether or not they were actually heavy was something she always debated. After all she did have to walk halfway across Gotham to get here, and she wasn't a very strong person to begin with. For the millionth time, she thought, '_Why, oh why did I decide to leave my money here?' _It didn't really matter now, though. She was pulling out all her money today.

She started walking around the office when she looked up at the teller counter. The lines were each about 4 people deep, and the two slowest tellers, Michelle and Larry, were the only ones there. She rolled her eyes and turned into the manager's office.

The bank manager looked up from his papers as she entered. "Morning, Harleen," he greeted warmly. "Haven't seen you around in a while."

"I told you, Mahone, call me Harley." she responded, irritated. If there was one thing she hated more than sunny Gotham days, it was being called by her full name.

"As soon as you stop calling me Mahone," the manager replied. His real name was Arthur Fisher, but he always reminded Harley of Agent Mahone from _Prison Break_. She told him this when they first met a few years ago. He didn't think it was funny then either.

Again, she rolled her eyes as she sat down in one of the ugly yellow chairs and put her boots up on his desk. Fisher gave her a dubious look. "If anyone else waltzed in here and tried to do that," he warned, "they'd probably get their head blown off."

"Still keep that shotgun under your phone, do ya?" Harley teased. Irritating him always put her in a better mood. "Honestly, who's crazy enough to rob _your_ bank, Maho-"

"What can I do for you, Miss Quinnzel?"

Harley's grin faded. "Watch it." She took her boots off his desk. "I need to withdraw all my money."

"And the reason you can't have Larry or Michelle help you is...?"

"Because they're Larry and Michelle."

"Ah, I see. You just don't want to wait in line like everyone else."

"'Cuz I'm not everyone else. I'm better than all 'em."

"So then why are you pulling out all your money?"

Harley sighed. "'Cuz business ain't what it used to be since..."

Fisher nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. He sighed, pulling out the paperwork. "Might as well close out the account." he advised. Harley shrugged in agreement. Fisher grabbed a pen and put on his glasses. "I need your driver's license for the withdrawal." Harley leaned over to reach into her purse to find her wallet.

**BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM!** A round of gunfire burst through the air directly behind Fisher's office. Harley quickly slid to the floor and hid in the corner of Fisher's desk as three men wearing black suits and...clown masks?... ran by. _Oh, shit_.

Slowly she peaked her head up over the desk to see where Fisher was. He was still seated, his back against the wall, his eyes never leaving the robbers.

She knew that look.

"Fisher..." she whispered, barely heard over the clown yelling and the people screaming. She glanced over at the robbers - yep, definitely in clown masks- and watched in horror and amusement as Larry was dragged over his counter. Michelle managed to press the silent alarm button before the clown dragged her over too. Harley was amazed she could actually do something quickly for once. One of the clowns was really close to the office, roughing up poor Joe, the security guard. The third one was obscured from her view, doing something with the duffel bag he was carrying with him.

"Fisher!" she tried again. "I know that look - don't do anything that'll get you noticed!" Fisher wasn't a man you messed with, ever. End of story. Harley wasn't exactly sure what he did before becoming bank manager, maybe it was his connection to the mob, but whatever it was, it made him trigger-happy. The clowns, however, had automatic weapons, and all he had was a six-shell shotgun. "Fisher!" she hissed. He was ignoring her. _Goddammit_. Harley slid back down into her corner and watched the scene play out.

The third clown had opened his bag and was going around to each of the hostages and shoving something in their hands. Harley squinted at the object then covered her mouth as she said "Shit!"

It was a grenade.

And the clown pulled the pin.

_How the fuck are the cops going to take care of that?_

"Obviously we don't want you doing anything with your hands, other than holding on for dear life." The 'lead' clown said and the one continued handing hostages grenades. Harley smirked. That was totally was she said. _I should probably be concerned about the people's lives right now..._ she thought._ Wait, are they actually going to go down to the safe? They're wasting a lot of time. Maybe they have others?_

Harley heard a fumbling through the desk. She glanced over and to her absolute horror, Fisher, still looking at the clowns, was reaching into the secret drawer where he kept his shotgun. "Fisher! The _fuck_ man!" She hissed, almost talking. "You're a fucking idiot! Don't do anything stupid!"

The clown closest to Harley and Fisher hit Joe again with his gun, knocking him out. "On the ground! Stay on the ground!" he shouted, waving his gun about wildly. Out of the corner of her eye, Harley saw Fisher slowly turning towards the clown, the gun in his hands.

"Fisher, you're a fucking moron if you do this." she said.

"Nobody make a move! Nobody! Stay down!" Fisher turned toward the clown.

"Fish-"

**BAM!** Fisher shot the clown through the glass wall, shattering it. Harley covered her head and hid back in her corner. She saw the grenade clown skid across the floor to hide behind a table. Fisher stood and quickly stepped through the broken glass and reloaded his gun. "Fucking idiot." she quietly called so that only he would hear.

**BAM!** He fired another shot. Harley saw the clown quickly start crawling toward the last table, where the lead one was hiding behind. **BAM!** hit a table. **BAM!** nearly nailed the clown in the back of the head. "Hey!" Fisher shouted. **BAM!** the clown skidded behind the last table out of Fisher's view.

"You've any idea who you're stealing from?" Fisher kept walking toward them. "You are your friends are dead!" Harley mentally slapped herself for not trying harder to stop him.

The lead clown suddenly stood up to shoot him **BAM!** but Fisher shot at him and narrowly missed again, sending the clown back down. He went to reload, but Harley realized, panicking, that it was out. Then the moment she dreaded came - the other clown popped up and shot Fisher in a quick spray across the front. She felt her heart sink as Fisher went down. Instead of moving, the clown just stood there, breathing hard, head cocked to one side, staring down at Fisher. Harley's brow furrowed.

The other clown stood too, now holding another duffel bag. "Where did you learn to count?" He raged. The one who shot Fisher just looked over at him. The lead clown the took off toward the safe room, leaving just the silent clown to watch the hostages.

Harley didn't know how long it would take down in the safe - since it was a mob bank, she knew there was a shit-ton of cash down there - but she had to help Fisher. Maybe even take down the bastard who shot him. She looked up at his location - he was moseying down the aisle of hostages, not really paying attention. Quickly, she crouched and snuck around the desk. She started to go through the broken glass when **_CRUNCH_** a large chunk broke under her foot.

"Shit!" she cursed and quickly hid under Fisher's desk as she heard the _tap tap tap_ of the clown's approach. Quickly she reached into her boot and pulled out the small, silver knife she always kept there - it was Gotham, after all - and opened it.

_Tap, tap, tap, crunch... crunch..._ Harley's heart raced as the clown slowly stepped through the glass. She pressed herself in under the desk as his feet came into view. He paused there for a moment, and Harley was certain he was going to drop down any second and blast her away. Instead, he turned back around and started to leave.

_NOW!_

Harley slid out from under the desk and, with a battle cry, jumped onto the clown's back. She wrapped her arm around his neck and squeezed while her knife hand jabbed at his gun hand. He dropped his gun, and Harley tried to wrap her legs around him to throw him off balance. He caught her off-guard and elbowed her in the ribs, knocking the wind out of her, causing her grip to loosen. Suddenly he flipped her over him and slammed her onto the floor. Harley heard something snap as she landed hard on her shoulder, knocking the knife from her hand. She cried out in pain and blindly reached for the knife. The clown flipped her onto her back and straddled her. Harley started to fight back when she felt something sharp prick her throat - her knife.

Harley stared up at the masked man with hatred, glaring into his eyes, determined not to show any of the overwhelming fear she felt. Her erratic heartbeat alone could give her away.

As she glared up at him, she swore she saw his dark eyes twinkle through the mask, amused by her. This pissed Harley off even more.

Moments, feeling like hours, passed as the clown cocked his head and studied Harley's face. She cringed away as he slowly traced the knife down her cheek. She froze when he traced it across her lips, tugging slightly at the corner of her mouth.

Only then did a glint of fear show in her eyes.

She saw the clown's eyes narrow -smiling?- and he roughly patted her cheek with his gloved hand as he stood up. Harley was too stunned to move as the clown stepped over her, picked up his gun, and started moving toward the other end of the bank. She heard the footsteps of the other clown bringing what sounded like multiple heavy bags up from the safe.

Biting her lip, Harley winced as she rolled over onto her stomach, using her good arm to drag her slowly toward the dead clown and Joe's unconscious body.

"That's a lot of money." The lead clown chuckled. "If this Joker guy was so smart, he'da had us bring a bigger car." _Joker?_ Harley thought,_ I know that-_

She heard someone cock a gun. She froze. "I'm betting The Joker told you to kill me soon as we loaded the cash." The lead clown's shaking voice. Harley smirked. _Even the clowns are shooting each other. Pathetic._

A sigh, then a strange, nasally voice Harley hadn't heard yet: "No, no no no, I kill the bus driver." _Fisher's shooter?_

"...Bus driver?" Harley saw the one who attacked her sidestep to the right.

"What bus driver?"

_My thoughts exactl-_ **CRASH!**

A freaking school bus crashed through the bank wall. Harley thought she saw the body of the lead clown go flying back. The other clown stumbled back a bit. The bus's emergency door opened and a new clown emerged.

"School's out! Time to go." he noticed the body of the lead clown. "Cat's not getting up, is he?" As they loaded the bags, Harley dragged herself toward Fisher.

"That's a lot of money." the new clown grunted.

Her dislocated shoulder made it agonizing to move, and she had to stop halfway between Joe and Fisher to keep herself from crying out.

"What happened to the rest of the guys?" **BAM BAM BAM BAM!** Thud. Harley looked up and saw the body of the new clown hit the floor. _Geez._

The last clown, Fisher and Harley's attacker, grabbed the last bag from near the teller counters and threw it into the back of the bus and started to step in.

"Think you're smart, huh?"

Harley rolled her eyes. _Oh, Fisher. You really are an idiot._

The clown turned and sauntered slowly over as Fisher bantered on.

"The guy that hired you's...he'll just do the same to you." The clown reached behind his back for something as he walked closer. "Ugh, criminals in this town used to believe in things: Honor. Respect!" The clown pulled out another grenade from behind his back.

"Look at you!" Fisher taunted. The clown knelt down to him. "What do you believe in, huh? WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN?"

Harley saw the clown shove the grenade in Fisher's mouth. Then he spoke.

"I believe," his nasally, muffled voice said, "whatever doesn't kill you simply makes you..."

He pulled off his mask; Harley's blood ran cold. She saw the white face, the black paint. The dark eyes glanced up at Harley. Only then did she see the red smile.

_Well, fuck._

The Joker looked back down at Fisher. "_**Stranger.**_" he finished. The nasal voice was gone, and it became dark and...frightening.

He smiled at Fisher, then stood up and walked back toward the bus. A purple thread followed him from the back of his jacket, linked to Fisher's grenade. The Joker closed the emergency door, leaped over the bags of money, turned on the bus engine, and slowly drove out through the rubble.

The string pulled the pin from the grenade in Fisher's mouth. Everything froze.

Smoke.

No explosion, just smoke pouring out from the end.

Harley was sure Fisher just shat himself.

* * *

**AN**: My HQ face model, Emilie de Ravin h t t p : / / w w w . h o l l y w o o d - c e l e b r i t y - p i c t u r e s . c o m / C e l e b r i t i e s / E m i l i e - d e - R a v i n / E m i l i e - d e - R a v i n - 2 0 . J P G

Yes, I know she did a Pattinson film. I don't care, I needed a new model since Brittany Murphy died. :( RIP.

R all comments and constructive criticisms welcomed. Flames will be used to fuel Joker's money pile. ^_^


End file.
